


Nightmare

by karteba



Category: Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-28
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-12 16:41:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 13,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29762562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/karteba/pseuds/karteba
Summary: Clay and George are best friends, although Clay feels they should be more. That's why when a new invention is unveiled - allowing two or more people to dream together in a type of server - he jumps on the opportunity. That is, until the dreams begin to take a sinister turn.Started: 21/12/20Finished: 22/02/21Originally written on Wattpad by myself, under the same title and username.
Relationships: Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Kudos: 9





	1. Chapter 1

'DREAM!' George giggled. His smooth cheeks glowed a soft blush as he grinned, his pearly white smile brightening clay's day.  
He felt himself begin to blush too, a warm feeling creeping up his face. It was a cool evening in December - December 3, to be exact. 

Clay was playing Minecraft with his friends, one of them, George, streaming the gameplay to an audience of 50,000. They were watching his every move with utmost interest, sharing their thoughts through supportive donations and messages.  
'WHAT ?!' Clay shouted light-heartedly. 

'You're such an idiot' George said as he crouched repeatedly in front of Clay's in-game POV.  
He turned around and ran down a long wooden path towards the house they were building. Clay had been on the server for months now, still yet to build a house, so when George's house was destroyed by Tommy, they opted to live together in a fresh, new house far away from mischievous children.

'Dream, can you go gather some logs? I'll go raid my chests back at my old base for some other materials, I might have some mushroom blocks left. 

We could use that for decoration in the front maybe, or inside. Maybe we could have it as flooring?' George spoke quickly as he focused on the game, turning around and running back in the direction they came, hitting Clay playfully as he passed. 

'Yeah sure, I dunno about the mushroom as flooring, we could incorporate it into the walls at the front, around the door? Then have windows above? We could have the doorway like, sticking out and put the mushroom in the walls of that.' Clay wracked his brains for ideas. 'For the floor we can use polished stuff, I have a ton of andesite and diorite left over from mining. We are NOT using granite.' He chuckled. George joined in.

'Anyways, how am I an idiot? You're the one blushing like an idiot every time I speak to you. '

He watched as George's smile faded into embarrassment. He felt a pang of regret rushing through his body. Why did he care so much all of a sudden? It wasn't like he was mad at him, they never genuinely fought. 

Being friends with someone this long simply eliminates all disagreements, spending so long together they eventually ended up with the same mentality, same opinions, same interests.  
Sometimes it felt like too much for him, feeling as though if they ever did grow apart, he'd be left with nothing but endless reminders of his old friend - within himself.

'Okay, okay, dream, you got me there. But that doesn't mean anything, chat. He really has a way with words, you know that, and his voice just makes it 10 times better. '  
Clay slapped himself across the face before the rush of warmth could return. He distracted himself with his game, rearranging his inventory to cater to the wood that was about to enter. 

'Anyway dream, what happened to that podcast you were talking about making? Are you still going through with that? You can't give up on it now, me reiterating how gorgeous your voice is should give you that motivation you need.'

On the screen, George leaped over a body of water before killing a sheep in his path as he returned from his journey. 

'I got 5 stacks of cobble, that should be enough, and 20 red mushroom blocks. I think I'm going to place them down and break them so we can grow another big mushroom, we haven't got enough with just this. So we're thinking of doing this like a woodland mansion, then?' He questioned.

'Yea- sorry, what did you say about the podcast?' Clay wasn't listening. He was too engulfed in his own thoughts. George's words replayed again and again in his head as he grew increasingly frustrated with himself: 'his voice just makes it 10 times better'. Did he really like his voice like that? Like, like his voice like that? 

No, no. Can't be. It was just a friendly compliment.

'Not now, not now, cmon Clay, focus on the conversation at hand, no more simping for your friends, got it?' Dream thought to himself. 

'I just asked if you were still doing it.' George questioned. 

'Oh yeah, yeah. That's something on my agenda for next year, got a lot of great things planned, I'm super excited to kick-start the next chapter of my online presence. Can't do it without you guys' support though, and George, of course.' 

George giggled softly, causing Clay to pause as he smiled to himself.

'So yea, keep up what y'all're doing, because it's amazing.'

The deep blue sky outside signaled that it was time to hop off. He said his goodbyes to the stream, and George. 

'Goodnight chat, hope you guys have a nice night, or morning, or afternoon, wherever you are. And enjoy the rest of the stream, unless George is going to bed too...?' His question was answered with a quick nod on George's cam.

'Oh okay, goodnight Georgie-poo' He said jokingly. 

'Oh shut up Dream, go to bed'

Clay pulled off his headset and placed it gently on his desk, powering off his PC and watching as the blue and purple lights dimmed. Patches stretched and meowed quietly, startled by the suddenly dark room. 'cmon girlie, I gotchu' he whispered. 

Laying down on his freshly made bed, he placed patches on his chest, waiting until she settled before pulling out his phone.

* 1 message - gogy 🖕🏻 - 21:56 *  
1 image attached

The blue-white hue of the phone lit up his face, an almost ethereal effect akin to the image George had sent just moments earlier - a quick snap of his face, dimly lit - of course it was, it was almost 3 am in England by now. 

His dark hair flowed over his pillow - it had gotten longer over quarantine; fans constantly asked him to get it cut, but Clay loved it. 

He never said that though, of course. He would surely be quizzed on his sexuality if he even dared mention anything of that sort. 

His eyes refocused on the image on his phone. George's deep brown eyes reflected a combination of his phone screen and the off-white glow of lamposts creeping in through his window, along with the purple and blue lights of the city he was lucky to live in. 

His mouth was covered by his small, thin hand, flipping off the camera. 

The slight wrinkle at the corner of his eye told Clay that George found it funny. 

'Soooo lame.' He whispered to himself, laughing sleepily. 

He was used to his childish behaviour by now. He was almost as bad as Tommy, despite their 8 year difference in age. 

Although he couldn't see much of George nor his room, Clay vividly imagined George being there with him, his small frame laying next to him - or better still, him resting his head on his chest, where patches was currently curled up into a little ball. He loved patches, of course he did. But he couldn't help but wish it really was George keeping him warm in patches' place.

Clay cringed at his own thoughts. 

In an attempt to distract himself, he opened Instagram. 

Fanart of him and George flashed up before his eyes. They were in bed together, George snuggled into his arms, a small smile on his face and his eyes tight shut. They were both holding each other softly, embracing their warmth and their presence. 

Clay's head leaned towards George, his dirty blonde hair spilling over the pillow above him. He was remarkably taller than his friend, around 5, or 6 inches. 

'Everything is about me and him together nowadays, EVERYTHING!' he remarked. 

Scrolling down his feed, he noticed a common topic - a new invention. 

He felt around for the TV remote, quickly surfing through the channels to the news: 'I have received word of a strange invention, what it can do will amaze science, and strike terror to the world'.

The news presenter rambled on, telling Clay all he needed to know: It was a new piece of technology, revolutionary, groundbreaking technology. It allowed two people, wherever they were in the world, to hook themselves up to a common server. This would allow them to dream together, and hang out in the virtual world situated in both brains as they slept. They could feel, see, hear, smell and taste everything that went on while they were hooked up, as it sent signals straight to their brains through a chip that already resided in everyone, thanks to new technological advancements beforehand.

Excitement crept down Clay's spine. He knew what he had to do. Quickly bringing up the product, he hit purchase without a second thought. 

After filling out his card details and address, he returned to the web page and repeated the process. He carefully deleted his own address from the text box and began typing out a new address. One he knew all too well at this point. His fingers tapped away at his screen to construct the words: 

London, UK.


	2. Chapter 2

'Dream- No way ... What is this?' George eagerly awaited an answer as he scrolled down the exciting email he had received. 

It was the next morning, and Clay made sure to call George first thing, excitedly begging him to check his emails. 'Did you order me something? A THOUSAND DOLLARS? WHAT ?!'

'Haha, yeah.' Clay chuckled. 'It's a surprise though, don't go any further. Did it say what it was at the top? ' He prayed George didn't see the name of the product. He would surely beg Clay to return the order - he always chickened out on things like this. It was the same with his colorblind glasses earlier in the year. 

'No, I dunno what it is ... But why is it so expensive? Is this a prank? ' George questioned the authenticity of the email, dragging his cursor around the price, trying to see any catches or small print that could possibly hint to it being fraudulent.

'No, no it's real. It's expensive because it's amazing. I'm so excited to try it out with you. I-I even paid for 1-day shipping, I was that pumped, haha 'Dream envisioned the look on George's face as he wracked his brains for an answer to what this mystery item could be.

'What do you mean, try it out with me? I don't trust you dream; this has to be something stupid, like a dildo or something. ' George joked. The awkwardness in his voice shone through, like a prepubescent teenager joking about sleeping with his friend's mum.

'WHAT ?!' Clay shouted nervously, a flustered expression creeping it's way up his face. He couldn't help but realize his now blushed cheeks, hands fiddling with his hoodie strings, and stuttered words as his thoughts exploded with the image of a dildo in George's small, slender hands. 

He felt the need to deploy a slap across his own face again, but this time, he let his thoughts take over. 

'Why do you think I would buy you that ..? And why would a dildo be a THOUSAND DOLLARS? '

'I dunno, maybe its 24-carat gold or something, I know what you're like.' George said as he typed away at his keyboard. 

'Oh wait. WHY DID I SEARCH THAT ?! OH GOD .. GOD NO, NO! MY SEARCH HISTORY! ' 

This sent Clay into a fit of laughter as he wheezed for a solid minute before slamming his tightly closed fist on his desk, causing his monitor to shake violently. 

It was then that their friend, Sapnap, began calling Clay on discord, but with his eyes tight shut and body laid on the ground with laughter, it was impossible for him to see the pop-up notification.

'I can't breathe, you're such an idiot, George!' Clay said as his teakettle-esque wheeze continued onto the 2-minute mark. 

As his laughter subsided, he felt his thoughts slip back to George's looks at that moment. He imagined his blood-red cheeks, handsome smile, and messy hair as he awkwardly ran his sweaty palms through it. 'George' He said, his suddenly serious tone worrying his friend. 

'What ?!' George's voice echoed down the discord call.

'I don't wanna sound weird or anything, but I wish I could see you right now.' He murmured to George's surprise. 

'W-what? See me? ' He stuttered to which dream confirmed: 'I- I just need you right now. Sorry for being a buzzkill but - can you turn on your cam? In the discord call. Please, George. '

A small box appeared at the top of the screen, where George's profile picture once was, it was just an off-black shade like the usual discord dark mode theme, until it loaded - and there he was, smiley as always, a slightly confused expression visible as he adjusted his cam to the desired position. 

'Why did you want to see me?' He questioned.

'I-I dunno. It's just, really miserable weather here right now and - and its been raining for all morning and much of yesterday too.' 

George became increasingly concerned as his friend carried on, voice weak and trembly, almost as if- 'I'm scared, George' He admitted.

'Dream, don't worry, I wish I could be there, but It's cold here too, we can suffer together' He chuckled. 'Is it too much to ask, if I could see you too, Dream? I-I understand if you can't, with your privacy and everything, I know how it is, I just feel kinda uncomfortable with the fact you can see me and I can't see-' 

George turned his head back to his monitor, to find himself making eye contact with eyes he'd never seen before. 

The green in his eyes stood out with the glare of a monitor casting light right at them. 

His eyelashes were long and beautiful. 

His eyebrows were thick and dark, in contrast to his light, wavy, dirty blonde hair. It flopped over to cover his forehead and much of his right eye, in a way that would often seem cringy to George, but this time, it simply added to his beauty. 

His teeth were white, and while they were slightly misaligned, it was handsome. 

He had freckles covering his entire complexion, over his softly blushed cheeks, between his eyes, and visible over his forehead through the gaps in his silky hair. 

George felt his eyes begin to wander, over Clay's sharp jawline and his strong collarbone slightly concealed by his loose blue shirt - Although, it did fit tightly over his broad shoulders and upper arm muscles. 

Even more so as his arms began to move, waving over the screen in an attempt to catch his friend's attention.

'GEORGE?! Are you okay?' Clay chuckled to himself, turning around to face away from the camera. 

He was probably just in shock, he didn't see himself as hot, or cute, or even just generally attractive. Especially not to someone like George, who was all of those things.

'Oh, yeah, yeah. You're just- way more attractive than I expected' George breathed as if it were taking a weight off his shoulders as he spoke.

WHAT?! HOW. WHAT? 

A soft rattle from downstairs pulled Clay from his emotions, and his best friend. 'George, I think something just arrived in the mail, let me go check'. 

George watched as he got up from his chair. He was tall. Really tall. And it was clear that he worked out, he was in great shape. 

He felt weak as he imagined what he would look like standing next to Clay. He'd look... almost... cute? No, no. He wasn't into that stuff. He liked girls, he wanted to be the tall, fit, dominating one, right? RIGHT?

-

Clay slowly walked down the stairs to see a small slip of paper fall from the letterbox. Picking it up to investigate, it read: 'parcel outside the door ' written in scrawny but readable handwriting. 

Detaching his attention from the note, Clay swiped his keys from the sideboard and fed them into the keyhole, turning it slowly. 

He opened the door to see a large parcel positioned on his patio. It had 'fragile' plastered all over it, several large customs stamps and two addresses on the upper side: presumably his and the retailer's.

He picked it up, and hauled it into his home, kicking the door shut and ushering patches up the stairs and away from the foreign object.

It had been 5 minutes since the parcel arrived, and Clay was on facetime call with George already.

It was just 5 minutes into said call before George's mum chimed in to let him know his matching parcel had indeed arrived earlier that day, but unsure of what it was, his mother held onto it, waiting for her son to wake up before she quizzed him. 

They unboxed the new product together, both shocked at it's complexity. It was a small blue and white box, with the shape of a cloud in acrylic built into the top. It had 4 outputs, with 4 different coloured adapters to go with it, colour co-ordinated to their matching sockets. 

'DREAM! I'M COLOURBLIND, THIS IS NOT FAIR!' George whined. He saw that coming.

A few minutes later, they had both successfully put together their machines. George, with some help from his friend of course. 

'Dream, this is mad. What does it even do? It's just a bunch of wires connected to a box. ' George became increasingly worried about what Clay had brought upon him on this chilly winter's morning. 

'It's a dream machine, George. We can join each other's dreams, it's crazy, like a Minecraft server but in our dreams. 

All you do is hook this wire to your chip' Clay instructed as he fiddled with a blue wire, bringing it up to his head and pointing out where it should be connected. 'Then you connect these other wires to your fingers, arms, and legs so you don't actually move in real life when you do so in the dream.' 

'This was actually more expensive, but I don't want you to hurt yourself.' George could hear the tenderness in Clay's voice and knew he meant it.

'Thank you dream. You're the best friend I could ever ask for' George gushed, causing Clay to blush violently, and rejoicing at the fact he had his cam now turned off.

Later that night, Clay laid awake in his bed, waiting eagerly for the text from George, letting him know he was hooked up and ready to go. 

And then it came. 

He quickly tapped at the keys built into the machine, inputting the code George had sent. He slowly closed his eyes, a smile creeping up his face as he felt himself transcend into dreamland.


	3. Chapter 3

Clay's vision flickered as he woke up, looking around the space he found himself in. It was an oddly shaped room - and it distorted as his eyes focused. 

The ceiling was high and faded into murky darkness as it went up, the walls towering upwards in the same fashion. They were an off-white shade in which Clay could only describe as the color of coffee stains left on surfaces for years - and the smell matched that description. 

An unsettling metallic taste forced him to swallow excessively, or maybe it was the fear, who knows. 

The carpet was moist and rough as if it were sweating nervously with his arrival. It followed the same color scheme as the walls, although Clay had reason to believe it was originally white before its age began to take its toll.

Frantically, he began to look around for George, for that comfort he felt earlier with his presence. But he was nowhere to be found. 'Georgenotfound ...' Clay chuckled to himself. 

He had thought of that name years before, with the help of an error 404 message: web page not found. Ironic, it was as if the machine had made an error, that George was connected to some other server accidentally; leaving Clay all alone in the dismal room. 

'Guess It's just me for now. Ya know, I sorta had a feeling this would happen. It wasn't a great idea to order this thing right after it comes out, of course, it's gonna be buggy.' Clay began to talk to himself to pass the time.

'Although I am wondering where George is right now. Maybe he just can't sleep? Not everyone falls asleep as soon as their head hits the pillow, haha.' 

A slither of worry began to infiltrate his mind, despite him knowing it was silly. Slumping against one of the yellowed walls, he fiddled with his hoodie strings while he continued overthinking. 

'Oh George, the things I do for you. A thousand dollars gone, and I can't even get an I love you. Just three words that could make my body fill with butterflies, my legs turn to jelly, my face red as a tomato. Three little words.' 

His vision unfocused from his off-putting surroundings. 

'Three little words to push me off the edge and let me fall deeper and deeper for you.'

Giving up on his bout to wait for George, Clay took it upon himself to figure out what the room was supposed to represent, and what he was even supposed to do there. 

He brought himself to his feet and walked about the room. 

It was akin to 'the backrooms', a popular internet theory/creepypasta. He was never into that stuff, but this was starting to give him the creeps. 

He shuddered as he turned his head to study a small door on one of the walls. It was quite a few inches shorter than he was, maybe 5, or 6? That would put the height of the door at around... 5'8, 5'9? 

The door was surprisingly cheerful-looking compared to the rest of the room. It was less of a yellowy-brown color, with a more blue-ish gray tint, and the door handle was a blinding white. 

Why he hadn't noticed this earlier, Clay wasn't sure, but he knew it had to have some significance. 

It was in that moment that he heard a noise that startled him - a sudden change to the incessant buzzing that he just realized had been bouncing around his eardrum thus far. 

It was similar to a snarl, or a hiss, or was it a growl? It sounded as though it came from the maw of a prehistoric creature, echoing through a space-time wormhole. He swiftly turned his head to follow the sound, catching a glimpse of an opaque shadow as he did so.

'Oh, George!' He yelled, 'C'mere, Georgie!' He knew what he had to do. He'd practiced this many a time in his Manhunt videos, and playing it in real life was something he'd always wanted to do, even if it were just in a hyper-realistic dream. 

He stretched out confidently before sprinting across the ever-changing room. It seemed to grow and grow longer in length as he ran, a black cloud of void slowly moving backwards revealing more of the repetitive surroundings. 

The walls stretched to follow his quick figure, the carpet becoming exceedingly ragged and worn as it continued on. 

A familiar beat began to play, seeming to be distant and distorted, but Clay recognized it instantly. 'Trance music for racing game, haha! I knew this would happen, this is a dream after all. ' He fought back a wheeze, afraid it would hinder his running speed. 

He carried on, and tried to carry on as he became tired. His legs ached as they began to go numb. He tried to keep moving, swinging his arms violently to propel himself forward, but it was no use: he had worked his legs to their very limits. 

He tried to keep going, but his sudden loss of energy paralyzed him. Stacking it, his knees gave way underneath him and he fell to the ground with a soft 'ouch', curling up into a fetal position in a half-hearted attempt to catch his breath.

His mind swarmed with confusion as he laid there - was that even George? Running like that wasn't really something he would do, it would be more like him chasing Clay. But this was a dream, an extremely realistic dream, not Minecraft; maybe he had a change of heart? 

Before he could think any deeper, a sudden boisterous creaking of metal blasted his eardrums until a faint constant bleeeeeeep could be heard in the back of his mind when the noise halted. 

But as the noise went, something much more dangerous and terrifying came - as his eyes scanned for the creator of the sound, he noticed the walls around him began to move, slowly but surely. 

At first, he wasn't sure his eyes were seeing it correctly until the stains on the carpet began to disappear under the walls as they closed in. He limped around in despair as the ceiling too began to lower, going straight through the surrounding walls as if they were mere holograms. 

The floor began to lift, bringing him closer and closer to his demise. He fell to his knees, then to a sitting position, before laying down face flat to the crusty carpet beneath him, pressing his every limb down to the ground. 

He felt the coarse popcorn ceiling begin to brush against his soft hoodie, applying pressure until he felt he could no longer breathe in, there being no room for inflated lungs. 

He was sure he was going to die.

He squeezed his hands tightly, waiting for the deafening snap of a crucial bone that would lead to his depressing fate. 

He wasn't Christian, but he did what he thought was right in the moment - 'God, you hear me, buddy? Don't let me die like this. I know you hate me for what I love, but please don't let me go like this. Let me go on to fulfill my dreams, my life, don't let it be cut so short.' 

Sweat beaded on his forehead as he thought back to George. The one that brought him to this situation. The one he thought he was chasing just moments earlier. The one he wanted. 

He didn't want to blame him, of course. he simply wanted his final thoughts to be the one person that made his life thus far bearable. 

After moments of deafening silence and sweet memories of George, he took what he knew would be his final breath. 

Something went snap .


	4. Chapter 4

Violent winds rushed past Clay's face. He felt his body fall. For what felt like an hour, he fell helplessly deeper and deeper into the void. He was determined to open his eyes, but for a while, he was afraid. 

Afraid that when he did, he would see nothing but firey landscapes, pits of lava, and devilish monsters scattered across the terrain, their disfigured maws dripping with saliva as they studied their next meal. 

But soon, impatience got the better of him and he wrenched his tired eyes open. 

To his surprise, he did not see the fiery depths of hell. It was nothing of the sort. It was a desolate landscape, white chalky dust settled on the ground, seemingly glowing.

The sky was a dark blue, littered with stars like the freckles on his own face.

On his left, there was a gorgeous ocean, still and reflecting the glow of the full moon gracing the horizon. 

On his right, there was a lush forest with palm trees lining the outside. Soft, dark green bushes and short stumpy trees covered the remainder of the island, shaking every so often as if a small creature was stirring inside, or brushing past.

Between the sea and the forest, there was a thin beach, where a small figure was laid, staring upwards at the stars. 

-

He was still falling, the world around him a blur, but he could recognize that face from a mile away.

'George?' He muttered under his breath.

The figure sat up, as if he heard his name echoing down from above.

'George, it's me, can you hear me?' He shouted at the top of his lungs.

George looked up slowly. At this point, Clay was seconds from the ground, and hit it at full speed meters away from his friend, with a soft: 'oomph'

He sat up, head in his hands where he had impacted. The pain was little to none despite the velocity in which he struck the ground, and this calmed him.

Maybe the dull room he was in before was simply a waiting room, and he was playing a minigame that, unbeknownst to him, was a gateway to the real dream world.

'Dream?' George muttered, his voice soft, quiet, and concerned. His presence was warm and inviting.

'George!' Clay smiled. This was just how he wanted it to be. Him, George, and no one else in a dream world made for the two of them.

'Did it hurt when you fell from heaven?' George giggled. He spoke slowly as if he were picking every word carefully, despite the cheesy pickup line that became of it.

'It didn't, actually. It just felt like I fell off the bed or something.' He chuckled.

'Maybe you did in real life.' George suggested, 'But how can you fall off the bed when you can't control your physical body?' He questioned. 'That's what you told me.'

Clay fought the urge to let his mind speak. 'because I fell for you.' 

He imagined his friend's reaction. He was shy and introverted, obviously, he wouldn't take it lightly, nor as a compliment. 'I dunno. Maybe someone pushed me, haha. I wouldn't be surprised'.

'Why are you blushing?' He tilted his head slightly as he spoke, and this let loose the butterflies in Clay's soul. 'Is it hot in Florida?'

'Yeah.' He lied. 'It's really hot in here.' That was not a lie. He was getting really flustered and sweaty in the moment. His eyes wandered to the sea nearby, if he could wade in to cool off. 'Do you think I can swim in that water?' He asked. Before his friend could respond, he was already pulling off his hoodie and taking towards the waves. 

He looked back to see George still sitting on the beach, eyes locked on him. 'Come on! Don't be a pussy, the water's boiling!' He shouted to him, making him jump as if he were zoned out for a moment. He stood up slowly and grasped the bottom of his hoodie, hesitant to pull it off. He was insecure, and Clay didn't understand why. His deep brown eyes looked to him, almost searching for approval, that joining him in the water was the right thing to do. 

'It's okay Georgie, I won't judge you.' He said, smiling, speaking in a comforting tone George was only used to hearing when Patches entered his best friend's room. After moments of nothing but the waves crashing and the bushes rustling; 'Okay, please be nice' he pleaded. 

Clay watched as he slowly lifted his hoodie, bringing his shirt with it. A smile crumpled as he threw the lime shirt to the ground and waded into the water. 

Suddenly, a barrage of water splashed him in the face as George pushed the salty sea towards him. Before he could say anything, Clay was already splashing him back, being met with a high pitched screech as the water infiltrated his eyes. 

'I wish I got a dream machine for Sapnap too, that would be hilarious' Clay chuckled, 'He would have us both rolling on the sand, hands tearing at our sore eyes filled with salty water. He's a god at stuff like this.'

'I know, right, maybe you should get him one when you wake up. I can chip in half for you if you want.' George offered, in which he was met with an uninterested expression: 

'But then it wouldn't be just me and you.'

George's eyes glistened in the moonlight as he looked up slowly.

'Why do you want us to be alone, dream?' George asked inquisitively. George said as he tilted his head again. It was like he knew just how to get Clay going, to make him blush even more for his own entertainment.

'Because I-' He squeezed his eyes shut in embarrassment for what he was about to say.

'Say it' George commanded.

'I want you, and you only.'

His heart began to beat fast, and George's chest failed to rise momentarily. 

'You do?' He inhaled deeply.

'I want you to be mine, George' His voice cracked with emotion. 'Will you let me be yours, too?'

The silence wasn't threatening. It was soft, cushioning Clay's heart as it rattled against his chest. His shaking hands reached out for another, to be held, his fingers intertwining with another's. But not just any other's, with George's.

And they did.

The warmth enveloped his hands, and he craved it elsewhere. He shuffled closer, his want growing stronger.

He wrapped his arms around George's small frame, pulling him closer. He felt him hesitate, before relaxing in his embrace. He felt him exhale softly by his ear as if he felt as much relief as Clay felt in that moment.

'Do you feel, what I feel?' Clay stuttered nervously.

'I feel your warmth, and something more. I've never felt it before.' He said as he snuggled closer to his bare chest. 'Is this what love feels like, Clay?' 

Clay's entire body tingled with electricity. A shockwave of ecstasy pumped through his veins. He wanted to kiss him so, so unbelievably bad. But he knew his friend, and he knew it wasn't time. 

He tightened his fingers interlocked with George's and pulled him out of the water - the smaller man stayed close to him as if when he let go, he would feel more than just cold. They slowly crept up the sand and laid in the soft dunes together, staring up at the constellations.

'I love the stars.' Clay began, 'They remind me of you'

'Why?' George questioned, voice muffled as he cuddled closer to him.

'They look like you. Your freckles, and, your beauty' 

He felt his crush stir beside him, turning to his side and propping himself up on his elbow. 'You think so?' He smiled.

The butterflies in Clay's soul began flapping frantically, jeering him on to listen to his heart, and he followed. He sat up, and wrapped his large hand around George's thin wrist, pinning it to the ground and forcing him to lay on his back. He laid his other hand on the warm sand and held himself above the smaller man. 

'I know'.

The fire in George's eyes was visibly burning, and a smile crept up his blushed cheek. He stretched out his free hand to cup Dream's jaw, tracing it down to his chin, and pulling it closer. 

'I guess I want you more than I thought I did' George muttered.

He couldn't resist it anymore. He leaned closer until he could feel his friend's warm exhales on his face. He felt the gentle brushing of George's soft lips on his, craving more. He released his grip from the smaller wrist, and wrapped his arms around his waist, pulling him closer into a deep kiss, feeling his chest rise and fall against his own. He felt a small hand run through his hair and grip it tightly, their kiss becoming more and more passionate as they both realized there was no one around, no one to walk in on them, and they could do whatever they wanted to each other. Anything.

He pulled away, smiling so brightly it ached his cheeks.

'So, what now?' George asked, running his hand down the side of Clay's face.

'We lay here until the morning until we realize we're in love.'

'I've already realized' 

Clay's soul ached with admiration and emotion. He cradled his lover in his arms as he pulled him in for a second kiss, even more loving than the first. 

He pulled his lips away, eyes closed to savor the emotion he felt burning in his soul, afraid it would be let out if he were to open them. 

He shivered as he felt the atmosphere around him drop below zero, forcing him to open his eyes in confusion. The fingers intertwined with his own shriveled down until they were nothing but bone, covered in slimy goo. The soft, beautiful face that was once before him was now a black hole, pulling all positive emotion into the void. It had no eyes but he felt it stare ominously into his soul. He got up and staggered backward, catching himself with one hand. It was dressed in a dark cloak, and was holding a familiar accessory - George's glasses. 

The once-thriving butterflies in Clay's soul died, pulling his heart down with them.


	5. Chapter 5

His eyes shot open, blurry from sleep. He grasped a multitude of wires and yanked them from several parts of his body. The machine fell to the floor with a loud thud.

He was sweating, everywhere. His body was shaking uncontrollably. He just kissed George. No. No, no - he made out with George. They were... together? Or it was just in the heat of the moment, or it was a mistake, or - or he really meant it. But what was that thing? He needed answers. 

A quiet ding echoed through his headset indicating someone had entered the voice channel.

'George! I don't know if you saw it, but when we were- you know - I pulled away and, it- wasn't you. It was a... a skeleton? A phantom? I don't even know. I just know it was terrifying. George. You're here for me right? You won't judge me for what I did right?' He whispered down the mic, his voice shaky from fear. 

'What are you talking abo- what?' George was just as confused as he was.

'We... did you mean it? The kiss?' Clay's mind was a jumble of contrasting thoughts.

'Wait... Kiss?' 

Did George not remember? If he didn't, it can't have meant much to him. This sent a pang of self-hatred through Clay's heart. He knew George didn't feel the same. He knew it.

'In the dream, George. We were laid on the sand under the stars, I complimented you, and we- we kissed. We made out, and it was amazing. Tell me you remember, Georgie.' His hands were shaking as he held his arms around himself.

'I never remember my dreams, you know that.' This hurt more than his friend had intended. Or did he intend to hurt him? Did he regret what he did, and was trying to drop Clay? After all this, he never would have guessed his feelings for George would mean the end of their friendship.

'Oh.' He let out an audible sigh. 'I thought it meant as much to you as it did me.'

'It probably did, I don't know. What I do know is, uh.. the machine was working well, I guess.' He stuttered a considerable amount like he was wracking his brains for something positive to say in a half-hearted attempt to cheer his friend up. 'Anyway, I called Sap earlier. I told him about the machine, he was jealous, obviously. I don't blame him, that wasn't the best idea to just have us two together.' His voice lowered to a mutter. 'Like always.'

Clay was hurting too much to listen, nevermind respond. He sat back in his chair, wishing he could've just stayed in the dream for just a minute longer. He brushed the thing off as his brain trying to wake him up and focused on the positives. At least they could be together again tonight.

'So we bought another. And it was click and collect- he's setting it up right now.'

No. This can't be happening. He felt his hope and dreams crumple into a ball and fall straight into the trash. Nick was a great guy, and he loved him for that. But that was platonic, and his love for George was so strong it made his friend seem like just a side character. He felt bad, but he knew he'd understand, that was one of the things that made him such a great friend.

'Dream? Are you there? Are you even listening?'

Clay could sense the eye roll in George's voice. Adorable.

'Yeah.' His voice was quiet and trembly despite his attempts to sound casual.

'Are you okay?'

No. He was far from okay. He felt rejected, thrown away. Used.

'I'm fine.'

'Oh, that's good. Anyways, as I was saying, Sap is gonna join us tonight, be nice.' He chuckled.

'Promise.' His voice was serious in contrast.

'Dream, you don't seem okay. What's going on? Did you piss the bed again?' 

Okay, Clay had to let out a light giggle.

'No!' He blurted out defensively, 'I had a great time in bed, though'

Uh oh.

'WHAT?! DREAM! WHAT ON EARTH- OH MY GOD!' He loved it when George reverted back into his awkward self. As much as he loved kissing him that night, he secretly wished he was more hesitant and shy in doing so. 'WHY AM I SO RED?! DREAM YOU- IDIOT!' 

'I don't mean that. I mean it was great in the dream, dummy.' He wheezed.

'Ohhhh, the dream.' His confused tone returned. 

'What does that mean for us, the kiss?' Clay felt his mind return to it's overthinking state.

'It means... uh. I- I guess...'-

'HEY GUYSSSS WHAT'S GOING ON?!' A familiar, comforting voice entered the channel.

'Hey, Sap!' George sounded glad to have been cut off. Of course, he hated confrontation.

'Hey'. Clay's voice was considerably less enthusiastic than the others, and Nick could sense that something was wrong almost immediately- of course he could, he and Clay had know eachother for years. They had helped eachother through high school, college and going into adulthood and had met up in real life several times. The two were inseperable. 

'What's up, dream? You good over there, dude? I just got the machine set up and it's ready to go, if that makes you feel any better.' His excitement made Clay feel awful about what he had said earlier. Maybe a break from George wasn't so bad after all. He knew his heart could only take so much - whether it was positive or negative. 

'I'm alright, a little tired. It takes a lot of energy, dreaming like that you know.' He chuckled quietly at his lie. 

'Ah, I see. Well, I picked the right day if it does make you tired - I was planning on doing absolutely nothing tomorrow, haha.' 

'Nice! We can dream for ages then, I'm not doing anything either.' George giggled. 

Clay grimaced as he imagined what was going to happen that night - hours of having to conceal his feelings for George. This was already hard, but having to do this while seeing him, almost in real life? It felt almost impossible. Selfishly, he secretly hoped Nick would have trouble joining, or at least be late, so he could have at least a few special moments with his crush.

'Cool.' He shifted in his seat, fidgeting with the fabric on his hoodie sleeves. How could he be calm? How could he be collected? How could he just get on with his day, when he knew the stress that awaited him when he closed his eyes?

He pulled himself together - he had to.

'Can't wait to see you guys tonight.' He squeezed his hand into a fist. He felt... Angry? At himself. If only he hadn't fallen for George, if only.

-

'Alright guys, you ready? I'll text y'all the code, can't wait to see you guys tonight.' Nick disconnected as he spoke, his voice being cut off abruptly. 

Clay didn't want to, but he had to. He loved his friends. 

Feeling defeated, he left the call without saying anything to George, and powered off his PC. He blinked rapidy, getting his eyes used to the now dark room, while tugging off his headphones and throwing them on his desk.

He flopped onto his bed, putting his phone on his chest while he hooked himself up to the machine. After a few minutes of deafening silence and painful anxiety, the phone on his chest buzzed twice, signifying Nick's text - the code. Hands shaking, he clumsily thumbed in the code: 2... 5.... 8.... 1... Enter.

He felt his tired eyes begin to close as a successful 'beep' echoed around his room.


	6. Chapter 6

He regained conciousness quickly, his eyes darting around the room moments after he opened them. 

He was in his own bed, in his own room, but it was still dark outside. The lights were on, and although he felt like he had just woken up, they weren't hard on his eyes.

He slid off the mattress and onto his feet, eager to investigate whether the house was different, or if he had in fact woken up hours later having not even dreamt. 

He placed his hand on the door handle, and before he could turn it, someone on the other side did so and slammed the door into Clay's face.

He cursed loudly and pushed the door back at the person before realising who it could be.

'GEORGE?!' He began to panick - was his friend going to be mad at him? 'George I'm so sorry.' 

To his surprise, George giggled as he held his hand to his forehead and winced in pain. 'It's okay dream, haha. I thought you would be in here.' Phew.

'Yeah, I just got up. Where's Sapnap?' He asked, expecting their younger friend to be right behind George.

'Oh, I dunno. I woke up downstairs and I didn't see him.' He said, looking confused.

'Downstairs?' Dream slid between George and the doorframe, looking over the balcony at the sofa in the lounge. A few pillows were strewn on the floor where George had gotten up. Something deep inside him told him to grab them, hug them close to him, smell them.

'Where are you going?' George shouted as Clay proceeded to run down the stairs. 

'I just gotta check the spare room, Sap might have spawned in there. You can wait for me in there.' He shouted, watching his friend carefully to make sure he was fully in the room, and door closed before he could continue.

He picked up a pillow by his feet, and brought it to his chest. He laid his chin on top of it, breathing deeply. He could smell George's weak cologne on it. It usually smelled like any other man's scent - but this was different. 

He found comfort, warmth and content in the metallic fumes. He brought it to his lips, resting them on its cotton surface.

He wished it were George's shirt, or jacket, or anything that he had worn for that matter. 

If only this could carry over to the real world, so he could always have a something to remind him of George when he was feeling lonely.

But it didn't, and he didn't need anything to remind him of George right then, because he was currently upstairs. In his room. Presumably, on his bed. Waiting for him.

He thrust the pillow to the ground, and walked back upstairs. Everything inside him told him to run, but he had to play it cool, of course.

'Didn't do a very good job of that.' He muttered to himself, reflecting on the night before.

The door creaked as he pushed it open to find George sat cross-legged on his bed. He looked up at Clay nervously, waiting for him to say something to start a conversation.

'So, Georgie. How was your day?' He grinned.

'It was good. But I was waiting the whole time to see you again, after last night.' He smiled back, fiddling with the duvet beneath him.

'Wait, I thought you couldn't remember what happened at the beach?' A confused expression overwrote his former smile.

'Huh. I didn't say that.' He looked away, out of the window, seemingly guilty.

'George, is there something you're not telling me?' He laid a hand on his friend's knee, heart beating fast as he did so.

'Yeah.' He looked back at Clay, making eye contact. 'My day wasn't good, it was awful.' 

'Why?' He replied, concerned.

'Because you weren't there.' He giggled.

'Oh. My. God. You scared me!' He chuckled, ignoring George's suspicious behaviour. 

'No really, I want you in my life Dream.' George said, tone serious: 'In my real life.' 

'You do?'

'Yeah, the other night was amazing, I'd do anything to have that in real life.' 

'Me too.' Clay stuttered, taken aback by his sudden change in seriousness. 

'We can hold eachother every night, all night.' His eyes were unfocused, as if he were dragging his words from the deepest depths of his brain, his deepest desires: 'I want to feel you, feel your love for me. Do you love me?'

'I- George-'

'Do you love me?' He tilted his head with interest, repeating his question.

'I love you, Georgie.'

'Thank you, baby.' He smiled flirtatiously.

The pressure in the room began to rise and fill his insides with butterflies. With it, the heat began to increase dramatically causing Clay to sweat profusely. He looked at George, embarrassed at the state he was in.

'It's okay to be attracted to me, Dream.' He looked back at him, his smile inviting. 'I'm just as flustered as you are.' 

'Because of me?' He stuttered.  
'Because of you.' George confirmed.

'You're too much.' He smiled, fighting against the urge to bite his lip. 'Too much for me to handle.' He brought his voice down to a whisper: 'I can't fight the urge anymore.' 

'The urge to do what?' George asked flirtatiously. 'What do you want to do to me?' 

Clay's thoughts flashed back to the night at the beach. George under him, him on top of George. Feeling his gentle fingertips grace his rough jawline, his warm breath gracing his face, and his soft, sloppy kisses making him feel like he'd never felt before.

'Oh, you can't even imagine what I want to do to you right now.' His breath was deep, heavy and shaking.

'Tell me. Tell me what you'll do to me.'

'God, If you were mine...' He bit his lip and took a deep breath, closing his eyes before continuing: 'I'd kiss you so hard, yet so soft that you can't pull away, holding you so tightly that I can feel your pulse beating fast next to my own. And - and I'd leave hickeys wherever you want me to. And wherever I want to.'

George was entranced in Clay's words, staring up at the taller man with deep, brown puppy-dog eyes.

'And George, if you wanted me to, I'd fuck you so hard you'll wake up paralyzed' George's eyes widened and his blush began to spread like wildfire across his face, sweat beading on his forehead. 'And you'll beg me to come to England, because you just can't get enough of me.'

'I-I would' He looked around quickly, as if he were making sure that noone was around. 'I'd love that.' 

'You- you-' Before Clay could finish the sentence, his expression faded to panick as he remembered the day before.

'Wh- Where's Sapnap?' He quickly loosened his grip on George's hoodie and laid back on the headboard. 

'He-' His breath was cut short. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see George. But he was sat right there, in front of him - was it an illusion this whole time?

-

'Dream?' George questioned.  
'Yes?' He replied. 'What's up?'

'You were zoned out for a couple seconds.' George was still there, in front of him, sat cross-legged on the bed. He'd sworn he saw him glitch, duplicate. For just a second, he saw his friend beside him, then teleport back to where he was before, the George that was there disappearing. There were two Georges, if only for a second. 

'George, did you glitch?' He asked.

'What do you mean? I just got here.' He looked around, as if he too saw something odd.

'Just got here? We've been talking for nearly 15 minutes now, what are you talking about?' 

'I dunno what happened.' He shrugged.

'Oh. I guess it was just a glitch. Maybe you woke up for a split second, you say you forget your dreams when you wake up, right?' 

He was answerd with a nod. 

'Want me to fill you in?'

'Sure'

'So.' He started. 'You begged me to tell you I loved you. I thought that was obvious, why you need confirmation - I don't know.' He looked at his friend, who was still expressing his confusion.

'And things got kinda, heated. You begged me to tell you what I'd do to you - if I could do anything I wanted.' 

'And what did you say?' He questioned.

'That, I'd kiss you.' He reiterated, becoming embarrassed. 'And I'd, uh. Fuck you. If you wanted.'

The older man looked as though his soul had left his body. 'Dream, WHAT THE FUCK?'

George's voice sounded, different.

'You didn't actually say that to George, did you?'

Sapnap? 'SAPNAP?!' Clay couldn't believe his ears.

'Yes. It's me.' Slowly, George began to melt away, deforming and popping back into place until Nick was sat in his room instead. 'And we have a lot of talking to do. Wake up.'

'I- Okay. How do I wake up?' He masked his utter terror, looking downwards to hide his tears of fear and regret.

'Wake up.'

He looked up to see nothing, just darkness filling his vision, obscuring everything, until it faded to reveal his room, again, but it was light outside, and his phone was buzzing on his chest.


	7. Chapter 7

Fuck. Clay couldn't help but leave the phone to ring. He was terrified.

Sapnap knew. About it all. 

But George would back him up, right? He had to. He was the one that he'd said all those words to. He provoked him to say that. It wasn't his fault George was so hot.

'Yeah, okay. I went a little far.' He thought to himself, 'I doubt he felt as much from what I said as I did saying it, but I guess it's fine.' The older man played along, it wasn't like he was getting uncomfortable from it. He liked it, he even said so. 

But his friend hated confrontation, and Clay knew that. He would most certainly lie to get it off his back. He would never let something like that be known, especially to Sapnap, who loved to spread rumours, and joke about them. The rain outside the window crashed onto the metal roof, worsening the atmosphere in Clay's humid room. 

He slid off the bed in the same way he had done in the dream, treading carefully over the wooden floor where George had walked. He slowly edged open the door, peering out onto the hall. It was empty, and so was the house. It was eerily silent.

He brought himself to the edge, holding onto the railing. The couch was just as it was in the dream, messy. A blanket was thrust to one side and multiple pillows were scattered on the chair and it's arms. The only difference was, it wasn't either of his friends' mess. It was his.

He calmly walked to the bathroom, hoping to freshen up and forget about the night before so he could have a half decent day. As Clay's house was big compared to the average one person household, the hall stretched for at least 10 meters around an open space that let him see the lounge from the second floor. It was lined with a wooden railing that was higher than average, to accommodate for his tall figure. 

He ran his fingertips over the wooden frame as he went on, into the bathroom and closed the door behind him. The mirror stretched across the wall with a counter following it. 'What a mess.' He murmured, pushing multiple bottles of skincare, lotion and god knows what aside. He bent down to pick up a discarded razor, and upon returning to his usual stance, something caught his eye in the mirror. Himself. 

'The house isn't even that bad. I'm the biggest mess around here.' He mumbled as he ran his fingers through his now long, wavy, dirty blonde hair. 

He rested his hands on the counter, studying himself in the mirror. His lower eyelids were dark, and tired. His freckles seemed more unkept and untidy, and they looked as though they had multiplied due to pimples breaking out over his pale cheeks. His jawline was inhabited by a stubble of facial hair, making it spiky and unpleasant. His lips were chapped and peeling. He wasn't as charming as he was before all this, and the worst part was, he knew it. He felt ugly. For the first time in years, he wasn't so confident.

The shower was cold and unpleasant. The shampoo slid out of his hands and down the drain with the running water. The sponge was coarse and rough against his skin. The razor cut and snagged on his facial hair. 

He stared at his clean self, usually proud, but today he was lost in thought. His dream reality was so beautiful and full of warmth, that his real life was dull, cold and boring in comparison.

Life with George was so pleasant, that everything else was awful in contrast.

A soft 'mew' dragged him from the deepest backstreets in his mind and out into the open.

'Patches!' He smiled, trying to sound enthusiastic and happy for his little girl. Scooping her up, he nuzzled against her - that's how cats kiss, George had once said. God, he just couldn't forget, could he?

He treaded down the stairs, holding Patches like a baby. She purred softly, filling the silence. The lounge was untidy, but comforting. Although it was just how it was every morning, something in the back of Clay's mind told him he'd seen it before. Not just the room, the exact layout. Even down to the-

The pillow. On the floor. From the dream.

Patches yelped as she slid out of his limp arms. George's pillow.

He almost didn't want to touch it, to ruin it, or feel disheartened if it didn't smell like him. But the bright blue fabric yearned to be held. And he granted it's wish.

He held it close, grasping the soft polyester cover and filling his nostrils with the sweet cologne.

'Deja vu.' He whispered. 'I can feel your love, George.'

He jumped violently, dropping the pillow and startling patches as she kneaded on a similar cushion. His phone was ringing again, screen lighting up with a discord symbol.

-

'Sapnap?' Clay said, voice shaking, but filled with fake excitement.

'Dream. What the fuck is wrong with you?' Sapnap's voice was agressive, with undertones of confusion and disappointment.

'What're you talking about?' He replied.

'You know.' He knew. 

'Listen, I'm sorry. I'm sorry for not telling you. Last night, I went a bit too far. Well.' He hesitated.

'Well?!' His anger seemed to increase with every second of silence.

'Not a bit, a lot. It was too much. But George- George was okay with it. He was playing along with it.'

'Yeah, but you said those things. That's weird, Dream.' He felt a lump in his throat begin to form.

'Hey. It's not my fault-' He knew it was. It was all his fault. But he was stubborn. 'Why don't you blame George?'

'For what? Turning you on?' 

He felt disgusting. At this point, the lump in his throat felt like it was blocking his airways, and speaking was painful and hard to do. 'I guess so.' Every word pricked at his eyes, bringing tear after tear until he was silently breaking down.

'Well guess what. I talked with George before this, since you wouldn't answer.' 

His pain brought him to his knees, and his weak body collapsed to the living room floor, tall threads in his carpet poking his reddened eyes as he realized what deep, deep shit he was stuck in. 'And?' He stuttered, voice muffled as he covered his mouth with his palm. It was hot, dampened and salty with tears.

'He didn't even use the stupid machine. Ever.'

'WHAT?!' He cried. He didn't care that his younger friend could hear his whimpering.

'I don't know how that even works. That was me the second time, I have no idea who you were talking to before.' He was clearly concerned now, rather than angry.

'But, but-' He stuttered, 'But I kissed him. I flirted with him. Well, it.'

'It wasn't George. Here, see for yourself.' 

A small 'ding' echoed out of the phone's speakers, signifying someone had joined the call.

'George?' Sapnap questioned.

'Yeah?' 

George's voice was comforting, but alien. It felt odd talking to the real George after whatever that was in the dream.

'Tell dream what you told me.' Sapnap commanded. Seconds later, a second ding rang out signifying he had left the call. 

It was just Clay and George. Alone.

'Dream, I gotta come clean. I didn't use the dream machine. I was scared. I don't know what I was thinking. But, that wasn't me. Whatever you did, it wasn't me.'

'George.'

'I'm so sorry' His tone was sincere.

'No, George. I don't care about that anymore. I gotta come clean too.'

'Wait, what? No, I'm in the wrong here. I'm the one that lied.' The fact he cared. The fact he was being truthful and honest despite his shyness and introversion. That's why he loved him. That's why he had to know he loved him.

'I'm in love with you.' His words were quiet, but just loud enough that you could hear the smile showing in his voice.

'Are you drunk?'

'No. I'm completely sober. I'm completely serious. I want you- your comfort- your warmth. I'll hold you so gently, cry into your shoulder when I reminisce of the times I didn't have you. I could run my hands through your soft hair. Lock hands with you as we drift away to our own personal paradise, despite it being nothing compared to our real life. Well, how it'd be if I had you.'

'Is this because of how I was in the dreams?'

'No. I've always felt this way. I was embarrassed you didn't feel the same way about me. I thought you did. You did, in the dream'

Thunder crashed outside as the rain grew heavier, tapping against the concrete patio outside Clay's lounge.

'That wasn't me though.'

'I know. Now I feel awful' he gulped.

'Dream.' George sniffed as he whispered into the phone. 'I think it was a representation of me. A clone. Made to be your perfect lover'

'No, don't say that. It was you. It was exactly the same.'

'Thats what I mean, Dream.'

'What do you mean?' He questioned, becoming exceedingly confused.

'Clay, I am your perfect lover.'


	8. Chapter 8

Clay's tears stopped flowing. He blinked rapidly to erase the stinging that blurred his vision.

The words repeated over and over in his head as a beaming grin lit up his now-glowing face. George was his perfect lover. And he knew it - does that mean-

'So, you feel the same way?' He asked inquisitively.

'Duh.' George's tone was playful and sarcastic, and Clay could hear his smile. 'You idiot.'

He leapt up, sliding his phone across the carpeted floor and punched the air with a smile. Patches seemed to be able to sense his happiness and began purring along, squinting her eyes in a friendly gesture. 

Clay felt ecstatic. He rushed up the stairs on all fours to his room, falling into his chair. He bent down to his PC and thumbed at the on button, watching as the monitor lit up, sending blue light shining over the desk. He double-clicked discord and dragged his cursor over George's DM: 'Where the fuck did you go lol'.

He began to wheeze as he realised what he had done: his phone was still laid on the carpet in his lounge. He brushed it to the back of his mind as he rejoined the call and opened Minecraft to let it load as George's icon lit up once again.

'Where were you?' The older man questioned as soon as the connection had established.

'I'm sorry. I was so.. relieved I dropped my phone and ran. I mean, I- I'm just so happy.' He stuttered, struggling to catch his breath.

'Damn. I didn't know you liked me that much. That's stupid.' He replied, it seemed as though he was in disbelief.

'Stupid? I know. I'm willing to take the risk for you, George.' He ran his hand through his soft hair and brought his hands back to rest on his keyboard and mouse. 

'Thank you, Dream. I- Don't know what to say.' He giggled.

'Say yes to dreaming with me for real tonight.' Clay's heart thumped in his chest.

'And what will that entail?' George didn't know what was about to hit him - in a good way, of course.

'We can finally be together. It's like real life, we don't need to worry about the distance.' He listened as a series of noises echoed down his headphones as George thought.

'I guess.' He paused, 'So. Okay, I will.'

'YES!' He was so excited, his voice was full of energy, mimicking his restless body. He peered down at his clock: 5:00 pm. Already? He must have slept in. The window at the other side of his room was no longer letting daylight flow in, and instead, a large round moon sat low in the sky. He wondered if George could see it too.

'Hey.' He said softly. 'Can you leave the house right now?' 

'What?' George sounded confused, 'Sure, yeah I can, why?'

'Go somewhere without any light pollution, a park or something.' He clasped his hands together as he awaited his friend's reaction.

'Why?'

'Please.'

'Okay, give me 15 minutes. Then I'll call you back.'

'Bye, Georgie.'

It felt good to say that, knowing the real George was the one hearing it. A slight, muffled chuckle could be heard as the call cut off.

-

The door handle was cold, and so were his keys. Clay pulled on his coat and stepped outside. The night was inviting, but the warm car was more to his liking. The engine sputtered as he backed out of his driveway. It was usually rush hour at this time, but the signs in windows communicated the reason it wasn't.

'Santa, please stop here!' Christmas eve. He caught a glimpse of children making precious memories, embarking out into the cold night to leave milk and cookies for santa, and chopped carrots for the reindeer. Lawns sparkled with glitter thrown hours before - by hands shaking with excitement. His own lawn seemed dull in comparison - a small tree wrapped in a thin string of lights, flashing every so often. They let out a faint blue glow, tinting the surrounding grass and pavement. He slowly began to put his foot on the gas, unhooking his eyes from the festive decorations that filled the streets of his gated neighbourhood.

The terrain ahead was dark, and he was unable to see anything but the cat's eyes lighting up the road. As his eyes adjusted, he studied it carefully. Winding over hills and valleys, the road seemed to stretch further than it had in the past. But the atmosphere was cool and calming, the eerie sensation that usually settled with the darkness seemed to dissipate and fade away. 

'Merry Christmas to all that celebrate it, and make sure to stay extra safe this year.' The radio crackled with unfamiliar yet safe voices. It faded away as a song began to play. He'd heard it before, every year. But this year it felt different. 

A spaceman came travelling on his ship from afar  
'Twas light years of time since his mission did start  
And over a village, he halted his craft  
And it hung in the sky like a star, just like a star

He felt his eyes detach from the road and gaze above him. He knew his crush could see the same stars. He seemed to love them more with this knowledge.

And it went la la la la la la la la la  
La la la la la la la, la la la la la la la la la  
Peace and goodwill to all men and love for the child  
La la la la la la la la la, la la la la la la la, la la la...

He couldn't help but grin as he continued his journey, spirit lifted. 

A high part of the terrain began to loom in the distance. It was an outlier compared to the soft, rolling hills surrounding. He parked at the base, locked the car and stepped out.

The frost was bitter and sent chills through his body, but the air was crisp and fresh. Clouds, barely visible, rumbled overhead. He wrapped his arms around himself and began to trek up the rocky path. Pebbles rolled out from underneath his feet as he kept on, his breath could be seen in front of him - his breathing was fast and uneven. The grass on either side was overgrown and coated with a layer of ice. The grit on the path prevented him from slipping, but the extra loose ground made him feel at risk despite it being too small to trip or fall over. 

Slowly, the top came into view. The grass was extra long, and almost covered an old bench that marked the peak. A singular tree blocked out all remaining moonlight and cast a shadow over the wooden seat as the tall man laid over it's width on his side, staring out over the city of Orlando, Florida. 

The lights were soft yellow hues, rather than the usual purple and blue skyline. They could almost blend in with the sparkling off-white stars filling the unpolluted sky. 

A gentle buzz vibrated in Clay's coat pocket, and he reached for his phone the second he felt it. The deep blue of discord lit up his bright features, brightened even more by his smile as he read the words plastered on the screen.

'George!' He smiled.

'Hey, I'm here. It's so quiet. I'm the only one out right now.' George's voice was down to a whisper, and this sent a swarm of butterflies free in his soul. It was refreshing to feel this way; he felt as though he was falling in love all over again. 

'I'm on a hill right now, there's gorgeous lights down there, thousands of them, and the stars are bright and clear. Yet all I can think of is you.' Clay felt his voice change to match his emotions. It was almost the same as when he spoke to Patches earlier that morning - the tone of pure love.

'I wish it were just as beautiful here. It's not, it's all just dark fields. And there's a park down there, that's about it.' His teeth chattered with cold.

'You should come here. It's magical.' His eyes gleamed with curiosity as to what would happen if George was here.

'You think so?' He teased.

'Yes.' His curiosity grew with each foggy breath; 'I've got to control myself,' He thought.

'Well, maybe one day I will come and see it for myself.'

'Tonight.'

'What? How?'

'In the dream.'

'Clay-'

'I'm telling you, if I think about it enough, the dream will take place here. It's based on the subconscious of the spiritually stronger person.' He felt his brain gush out the knowledge he'd acquired over the course of many google searches.

'God, you're too smart.' George chuckled, 'And how come you're 'spiritually stronger', eh?'

'Because I believe in it more.' It was the truth.

'Prove it then. Prove you're right, like you always do, and take me there.' A series of shuffling noises echoed down the phone line. 'Go home now, and we'll try it.'

-

The machine buzzed quietly on Clay's nightstand. His phone laid beside it. Room shrouded in darkness, he waited for the notification to spill light over it's contents. 

'Tonight.' He whispered to himself. 'I'll have you for real, all to myself.'

His nose scrunched up as he attempted to contain his sudden burst of ecstacy.

'Tonight, I won't have to control myself. He feels the same way.' Smile visible in his words, he spoke loudly to himself.

The room lit up after the longest 30 seconds of his life.

He was in, ready to fall asleep and meet the love of his life.


	9. Chapter 9

A bright light stung Clay's eyes as he felt his consciousness shift into the dream world. The cold nipped at his skin despite him wearing a soft, thick hoodie. He thought he'd come prepared, but dreams tend to exaggerate a lot, and he hadn't taken that into consideration at the time.

He watched through his eyelids as the light softened and dimmed until it was gone. 

As he did so, a familiar scent crept up his nostrils. It seemed nostalgic, it was that long since he had smelled it. It was a miracle he remembered, but as he studied it further, he realised why he could. It was George's cologne. His actual cologne, not the one from the previous dream.

For the first time, he felt anxious to open his eyes, and instead laid still, deep in his own head.

George had told him the cologne he used a few years back. Clay didn't have any feelings for him, yet, but he still felt comfort whenever he smelled it - feeling as though his best friend was with him, and he'd be alright. 

He had searched for hours, checking every store in his city until he found it. He promptly bought the biggest size they stocked, and tucked it away in his closet for use only when he felt sad, alone or just needed cheering up. It was almost empty by this point.

As the threshold between the dream world and reality strengthened, he realised where he was. On the hill, just where he wanted to be. Just where he wanted George to be. With him.

The damp grass below him was cold and slimy, and he could feel the rain begin to seep through his clothes. Usually he would feel miserable in these conditions - but tonight they seemed to make him feel cosy and warm. His body began to shiver, but the temperature didn't feel any colder than bearable.

'Clay? Are you alright?' George's voice was soft, and warmed Clay like a blanket. 'These stars are even more beautiful than you described them.'

He felt his tired eyes shoot open as it hit him - where he was. The stars were beautiful. They were more beautiful.

'Because you're here. If they didn't twinkle brighter tonight, you'd outshine them.' Clay began to sit up, stretching his arms out behind him.

George was sat on the bench, staring out onto the horizon. It was a dark blue, littered with constellations, galaxies and murky purple clouds. The moon lay in the middle of the sky, clouds parting on either side to let it shine through. The moonlight was directed perfectly to light up George's face with a soft glow.

'It's gorgeous.' George spoke with a flirty undertone. 'Come here, you'll be able to see it better.'

Clay obeyed, and moved to sit next to his partner on the bench. He seemed to glow an aura of comfort and warmth, lightening Clay's mood and releasing all his worries and negative emotions. 

'I'm so happy to finally be with you, Georgie.' Clay gushed, 'Where I wanted us to be, together.'

'Yeah. Its so wierd to have you here with me. It feels so odd, yet real. I'm going to have a hard time telling this apart from the real world, if I remember, that is.' George's hurt could be seen as he remembered his past experiences with dreaming. 

'You don't have to worry. This is our real world now.' Clay reassured him.

'How?' His eyes sparkled with the reflections of city lights below.

'We're together, right? You felt the same as I did.' 

George stayed quiet.

'What's wrong?' Clay's throat began to feel rough and tight as he began to overthink George's silence.

'We are.' He smiled. 'I was just- I still can't believe this is real. You- You're just-'

'What?' 

'So handsome, you- you're so tall, and your hair fluffs just right, and your freckles are in all the right places, your smile is so, so gorgeous and- and your presence is just, magical.' George took a deep breath before continuing as he looked into Clay's eager eyes, grinning, 'You're perfect.'

'Wait. You really think that?' Clay's heart began to beat fast, and sweat beaded on his forehead and rough palms. 'I didn't think you liked me that much.'

'I-I've loved you forever.' George stuttered. Adorable.

'I've loved you since the beginning of time, silly. You've always been the one for me, I just didn't know what love was until now.' Clay smiled, 'You taught me how to love.'

'Don't go teaching it to anyone else.' George's deep eyes pleaded, pulling on Clay's heartstrings.

'Hey, don't worry, it's just me and you. There will never be another you.' The sky seemed to light up as their admiration for eachother grew stronger.

'Just me, and you. Forever.' The smaller man repeated, snuggling closer.

'Trust me.' Clay whispered as he cupped his sharp jawline with his large hands, endlessly falling in love over and over.

'I can't tear my eyes away from you.' He gushed. 'You distract me from everything else with beauty.'

George smiled.

'Behind you, there's a sky full of twinkling, pearly stars, but all I want to see is you. What a heavenly sight.'

His partner's smile was wide and beaming. He craved to know how it tasted.

His lips were red and glossy, to match his blushed cheeks. He ran his rough fingertips over them, feeling their soft and smooth surface. He gently tugged at his bottom lip, revealing his white teeth and rosy gums. He felt a pang of satisfaction in his lower abdomen, feeling an urge to go further. He leaned in, towards his ear, brushing his dark hair away.

'You're beautiful.' He bit his lip before pressing them against his significant other's. He tasted sweet, like candy, with undertones of peppermint. He explored his partner's body with his fingertips, hesitating as his hand slipped lower and lower. The air around them was freezing, but the warmth that radiated from the two was enough to stay comfortable as they laid down together over the bench.

His hoodie was stuffy and limited his movement - therefore his pleasure was immeasurable as the smaller man reached his slender fingers underneath it, gently lifting it over his head and laying it on the damp grass. George continued, tracing his uncut nails over the taller man's weakly defined abs. 

His shoulders were broad and supported his weight as he held himself above the older man, smirking as he looked down at the dark puppy eyes that ran up and down his own body, begging for more, for him to give into his desires, and go further. 

His lover followed suit in removing his hoodie, revealing a tight shirt covering his chest. Clay lowered himself onto his significant other. The sky around them seemed to shift into a dark red, all the lights from the city below flickering off leaving nothing but red, devilish light showering over the two men.

'I made a promise to you a few nights ago. To your clone.' Clay whispered quietly.

'What was it?' He couldn't see George's face, but he was sure he was displaying his flirtatious smile.

'You asked me what I'd do to you if you let me do anything I wanted.' He gulped. 'I told you I'd fuck you so hard you'd wake up paralysed'

His lover's breath began to deepen as he rested a hand on Clay's rapidly beating heart. 'So?'

He knew getting to this point would be hard.

But he had no idea just how hard it would make him.

'I don't break promises, Georgie.'


End file.
